V.
I saw a Phoenix in the wood alone,
With purple wings and crest of golden hewe;
Strange bird he was, whereby I thought anone
That of some heavenly wight I had the vewe;
Untill he came unto the broken tree,
And to the spring that late devoured was.
What say I more? Each thing at last we see
Doth passe away: the Phoenix there, alas!
Spying the tree destroid, the water dride,
Himselfe smote with his beake, as in disdaine,
And so foorthwith in great despight he dide;
That yet my heart burnes in exceeding paine
For ruth and pitie of so haples plight.
O, let mine eyes no more see such a sight!
VI.
At last, so faire a ladie did I spie,
That thinking yet on her I burne and quake:
On hearbs and flowres she walked pensively;
Milde, but yet love she proudly did forsake:
White seem'd her robes, yet woven so they were
As snow and golde together had been wrought:
Above the wast a darke clowde shrouded her.
A stinging serpent by the heele her caught;
Wherewith she languisht as the gathered floure,
And, well assur'd, she mounted up to ioy.
Alas! on earth so nothing doth endure,
But bitter griefe and sorrowfull annoy:
Which make this life wretched and miserable.
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